


What If.?

by veronamay



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair meet in a different way. In a whole different universe, in fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If.?

## What If.?

by Sinistral

The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly and Paramount, not me. Go sue someone else.

This is unbeta'd, but don't hold it against me.

* * *

He was dreaming again. The jungle loomed all around him, eerie in the blue half-light, and up ahead he could see the old temple waiting. He approached the temple, all his senses broadened to scan the area. 

The shaman waited for him on the steps of the temple. Five years ago, his first visit here had been terrifying. Now, having gained almost complete mastery over his senses and the spiritual awareness that came with them, it was a chance to see an old friend, beyond whatever insight he gained from the dream. 

"Incacha." He nodded respectfully. "Are you well?" 

The driest hint of amusement edged the shaman's voice. "I'm dead, Enqueri." 

He grinned. "It looks good on you." 

That earned him a slight smile. "You haven't changed," Incacha observed. "I suppose that's comforting." The shaman looked him over with a solemn eye. "Your choice still holds, then?" 

It was a ritual query. He answered it the same way he always had. "It still holds. I will remain a sentinel for the tribe." 

Incacha nodded gravely. "So shall it be," he intoned, completing the exchange. Then he smiled again and sat down on the steps. "That's most of the business out of the way." 

"Most of it?" He approached the steps and sat down beside the shaman. "What's the rest of it?" 

Incacha looked at him intently. "How is it in your life, Enqueri?" he asked. "Have you found a mate to share your home?" 

The question was unexpected. "Why?" he asked. "Are you interested?" His grin was unconsciously appealing. 

The shaman's laugh was wistful. "Would that I could, my friend," he said ruefully. "But that's not what I meant. Or at least, not all of it." 

Now he was really curious. "So, what is it?" he pressed. "What does it matter to the cosmos if I'm getting some on a regular basis?" 

"It's more important than you think," Incacha said soberly. "You've been alone for five years now, Enqueri. It's not good for anyone, let alone someone like you." 

He frowned, irritating colouring his next words. "So I'm supposed to start looking for a mate to please the universe, is that it?" He shook his head. "Just like that?" 

"Not ... exactly." Incacha seemed faintly embarrassed. "That's why you're here. Someone is being ... sent to you." He reached out and put his hand over the sentinel's heart. "Someone to keep you safe." 

"Safe?" He was instantly on alert, his senses ranging out again to detect danger. Incacha waited for him to focus again before continuing. 

"It is not for your physical safety," he said. "You need someone to share your life, Enqueri." 

"And the cosmos will deliver, right?" He didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. Was this for real? "This is beyond weird." 

"It's necessary." Incacha's tone brooked no argument. "You must not turn them away when they come. Your life may depend on it." 

He started to ask another question along the lines of 'who/when/where' (and maybe a physical description), but Incacha cut him off. "It's time to go," he said brusquely. He stood up and moved to the top of the steps, before the entrance to the temple. "Guard well, Enqueri." 

"Always." He reluctantly walked back to the foot of the steps, turning around at the last moment. "Incacha?" 

Incacha's face was severe once more, as befitted the dream-state. "Yes?" 

He batted his eyelashes. "Make sure she's cute, okay? I'm thinking Miss December might be nice." 

The shaman's startled laughter followed him back into normal sleep. 

* * *

I didn't ask for it to happen. I mean, I was fairly happy with my life just the way it was. I had friends, I had a job, I had a car. I'd just about decided to nix the whole 'significant other' requirement in favour of getting a dog. Low maintenance, unconditional love, and I'd retain sole control of the remote. That's an important consideration, right? Right. 

so when he came barrelling around the corner like his ass was on fire and crashed into me, I was completely unprepared. It wasn't just that he knocked me flat on my back - okay, that at least made me _notice_ him - but as soon as he touched me, I felt this ... zing, like static electricity, only stronger. It was only for a second, but I felt like he'd branded me. Our gazes met almost by accident. Then before I could do more than 'oof' in surprise, he was up on his feet, calling out an apology as he raced off down the street. 

On later reflection, I realised it probably had been static electricity after all. Still, I was intrigued. 

So I followed him. He was loping easily along, ignoring passers-by, obviously focused on something - although what the hell that might be, I didn't know. It was easy enough to stay out of sight behind him, and just watch where he went. Somehow I didn't think he was a demented jogger out for a noontime jaunt, much as he might resemble one. 

Two minutes later he stopped running, tilted his head, and then turned and walked out into the middle of the street. I began to question my assumption of his sanity when he pulled a gun from a holster in his belt and aimed it at the empty air in front of him. 

He _was_ crazy. He was round the twist. My eye was caught by a pretty guy with noodles for brains. And a _gun_ , yet. Time to get out of here, yessir-- 

Except he _wasn't_ crazy, because in the next second a red SUV came flying around the corner a hundred feet away, and he was in the perfect position to force it to stop, which he did quite professionally. 

"Cascade PD," he shouted. "Out of the car, hands up, and don't get cute. I am _not_ in the mood for cute." 

They took him seriously. I wasn't surprised; I wouldn't have fucked around with him either. Two men slid quickly out of the car, hands laced behind their heads. I loitered in front of a jewelry store window and watched his reflection as he quickly cuffed them with plastic ties and read them their rights. I found it weirdly arousing. My breathing quickened, and I felt a flush start on my neck. I've always had a thing for cops-and-robbers. 

Suddenly his head snapped up, and he scanned the scene with narrowed eyes. I hastily bent closer to the window to examine a silver bracelet, wondering how the hell I was going to approach him - because I _was_ going to; that was already decided. Or so my libido informed me. As opening lines go, "You knocked me off my feet" wasn't particularly appealing, even if it happened to be true. I needed to think about this. 

I turned and left the scene as casually as I could, already planning my strategy. 

* * *

Of course, if I'd known how damned _hard_ it is to find a single cop inside Cascade police headquarters, I'd have grabbed him on the spot. I was getting turned in circles already, and I wasn't even off the ground floor yet. I should have stuck around at the scene long enough to at least get his name. Then I wouldn't feel like such a dick as I tried to describe him to the overworked desk sergeant. 

"He's about so tall, blue eyes, jeans, green shirt ...?" I tried, and got a bored stare in return. "He stopped a carjacking or something earlier today." 

"Carjacking belongs to Major Crimes," the sergeant told me. "Seventh floor. Elevators are to your left." He dismissed me with a flick of paperwork. 

"Thanks," I muttered, and shuffled off to let the next unwary schmuck face that terrifying indifference. The bank of elevators loomed like a ridiculous special effect, making me feel like I was about to make a hugely embarrassing mistake. I manfully ignored the thought and headed for the seventh floor. 

Major Crimes was pure chaos. There were uniformed cops everywhere, people in street clothes whom I took to be detectives, and nobody was paying the slightest attention to anyone else. I thought longingly of my own small, blissfully quiet office and shuddered as a baby's piercing wail echoed off the walls. The baby came by a moment later, in the arms of a woman who had Social Services written all over her. I took a breath and decided to just grab someone and _ask_ ; otherwise I'd be here for eternity. 

I spotted a youngish guy coming towards me and snagged his arm as politely as I could. "Excuse me," I began. "I'm looking for someone who--" 

"Missing Persons is down the hall," he interrupted with a distracted smile. "Ask for Sarah, she'll look after you." His cell phone rang as I began to explain, and he flicked it open with an irritated sigh. "This is Rafe," he said brusquely, staring at the floor, forgetting me entirely. "No, H, you're not _listening_ to me, man! It's not the hooker - it's never the hooker--" And he walked off, still arguing with the mysterious 'H'. I held back a sigh and looked around for a more likely candidate. 

A woman with long dark hair sat across the room. She looked like an oasis of calm in the midst of all the racket. I headed for her desk and smiled when she looked up. 

"Hi," I said. "I wonder if you could help me--" 

"That's debatable," she muttered under her breath. She had a strong Australian accent. I determinedly brightened my smile and kept on. 

"I'm looking for someone," I continued. "A detective, about this tall, blue eyes, dressed in--" 

She cut me off with a sharp gesture. "Look," she said abruptly. "I'm _married_ , okay? I appreciate the interest, I'm flattered, but I'm not interested. When are you guys going to get it through your thick heads?" She shook her head and looked away, her expression hardening. 

"No!" I almost yelled, and she looked up again in surprise. I flushed and held up a hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean to - look, I'm not trying to pick you up. I'm trying to find a detective - I think, anyway - that I sort of met today." 

She sat up a bit, her gaze sharp. " _Sort of_ met?" she inquired. "When? Where? Have a seat." 

I nearly turned handsprings. "Thank you," I said gratefully, sitting down. "Okay, when: about three hours ago. Where: on the corner of Prospect and Elm. He, um, ran into me. Knocked me flat on my ass." I smiled wryly. 

She looked at me hard. "Is this about a lawsuit?" she asked. "You want to make a complaint because this - person - knocked you down?" 

I strangled the urge to howl in frustration. What did a guy have to do to get a _date_ around here? "No," I assured her hastily. "I don't want to sue, or complain. I just - well, I just want to know who he is." I could feel another blush starting. "The desk sergeant told me to ask in Major Crimes." I looked around. "I guess he figured you've got everything but Hoffa's body stashed up here." 

"No, we've got that too," she deadpanned. "It's in the captain's office." Then she laughed, and I smiled automatically in response. "Okay, let's see if we can track this guy down for you," she went on, a bit warmer now. "You're sure he's a detective?" 

"Yeah." I nodded. "He arrested a couple of guys in a SUV down the street, and he wasn't in uniform or anything." She looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "I, uh, followed him," I explained, shifting uncomfortably. "For a few minutes." 

She winked at me. "Must have made quite an impression," she murmured. "Okay. What did you say he looks like again?" 

I cleared my throat. "Um, about so tall, blue eyes, jeans, green shirt--" I broke off as a knowing smile spread over her face. "You know him?" I asked hopefully. 

"Oh yes," she replied, her eyes sparkling. "I don't know why I didn't catch on sooner. Hey, Joel!" she yelled suddenly, catching the attention of a black man standing across the room. She pointed to an empty desk near the door. "Where is he?" 

"How the hell should I know?" Joel shot back. "He was there a minute ago." He shook his head and turned back to the file in his hand. The brunette detective shrugged at me. 

"He'll probably be back soon," she told me. "You can stick around if you like." _Give me a chance to watch the show,_ her face was saying mischievously. 

I smiled again. "Thanks." My nerves began to fray a little around the edges, and I decided a trip to the bathroom was in order. "Where's the men's room?" 

"Out the door, turn left, third door on the right," she said. "Hey - good luck." 

"Thanks," I said sincerely. Then I turned and almost sprinted for the men's room. Excessive coffee consumption will do that to a guy. 

* * *

Fate's a quirky bitch. If I hadn't had my heart set on a club sandwich from the corner deli for lunch, I wouldn't have been introduced to the pavement by a gorgeous cop. And if I hadn't indulged in that third latte while trying to get up the nerve to track him down, I would never have knocked _him_ clear off his feet on his way out of the bathroom. 

As it was, I nearly put him out cold. He groaned and sat up slowly, ignoring the flow of traffic around us. I forgot my overloaded bladder in the mingled excitement and horror of seeing him again. 

"Christ, I'm sorry," I blurted, crouching beside him. "Are you all right?" 

He winced. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, and then he looked at me and his eyes went wide. "It's you," he said after a second. 

I was surprised he remembered me. "Yeah," I agreed, trying for casual. "Me. Hi, again." 

"Hi," he said, still staring at me. I held out a hand to help him to his feet, and he stared at that for a moment before grabbing it and pulling himself up. He didn't let go, and I didn't move away. 

"You're sure you're okay?" I asked again, feeling awkward now that the moment was here. I was suddenly thirteen and looking up at Tommy Ryan, wondering if he was gonna haul off and hit me or what. 

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm good," he said absently, gazing at me. I could feel my face start to heat up _again_ , damn it. "What are you doing here?" 

"Uh, well ..." I stammered, casting around for an excuse. "I came looking for - someone." 

His eyes narrowed. "'Someone'?" 

//Fuck it,// I thought, and said bluntly, "Well, you, actually." 

He went very still, and searched my face for several long moments. I looked back at him and hoped to God fate didn't have it in for me this time. 

Finally, he shook his head and smiled, and I'd never seen anything sweeter. "Incacha, you _prick_ ," he muttered quietly, and I started. "Sorry," he added, shifting his grip on my hand to something more conventional. "Um, forget I said that. What's your name?" 

That smile was so _warm_. I felt my skin tingle. "James Ellison - Jim," I said unsteadily. "And you are ...?" 

"Detective Blair Sandburg," he replied, and his smile widened. "Nice to meet you." 

Nice, indeed. 

* * *

Blair didn't bother waiting for the temple-and-jungle imagery this time; he just fell into the dream running, and it sort of formed around him as he went. A few seconds later he found himself at the temple steps, and Incacha was waiting for him. 

"You're a sneaky bastard, Incacha," he said, but he wasn't really angry. "That wasn't fair." 

"It does you good to be surprised now and again," Incacha said tartly. "Complacency breeds negligence, Enqueri." He paused. "Besides, you are happy now, yes?" 

"Yes," Blair confirmed, unable to stop the stupid smile on his face. "Very happy." 

"Then all's well that ends well," Incacha said smugly. 

"Please, _please_ don't quote Shakespeare at me," Blair pleaded. "This is weird enough as it is. Did you really have to zing us that hard, by the way?" 

"Sometimes you can be a bit slow," Incacha said. "I wanted to make sure I had your attention." 

"Yeah, well, you got it," he grumbled. Then he sighed and decided to hell with being grumpy; life was too good. "Message received, O Great Shaman. Okay?" 

"Good." Incacha nodded, then folded his hands and began the ritual quote. "Your choice still holds?" 

"It still holds," Blair replied automatically. "I will remain a sentinel for the tribe." The vow felt a little more personal this time. 

"Is everything clearer to you now?" Incacha asked quietly. Blair nodded and sighed. 

"Yeah. And you're right, I feel better. Not that I wasn't feeling good before," he added hastily. "Just now I feel - better." 

Incacha nodded. "Things are as they should be," he said solemnly. "You can go now, Enqueri. Guard well." 

"Always," Blair replied, and turned to leave. 

"Enqueri." 

He turned again. "Yes?" 

Incacha looked almost mischievous. "Did I make him cute enough for you?" 

"Oh, yeah," Blair replied, grinning. "Miss December can go _hang_." 

* * *

End What If.? by Sinistral: sinistral_@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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